


Maker's Child

by alliancedogtags



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Dragon Age II Spoilers, F/M, Family Drama, Religion, bethany hawke - Freeform, carver hawke - Freeform, characters finding faith, mulligrubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 12:50:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliancedogtags/pseuds/alliancedogtags
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>mulligrubs -- a state of depression or low spirits<br/>And in those low spirits, Marian sought for something solid to hold onto.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maker's Child

**Author's Note:**

> tiny drabble, I decided I should put this one up here for my first post on AO3. I've always been fond of Sebastian's way of spreading his faith, the whole "I believe strongly in my faith, and if you don't that's okay" stuff.

The cool oak pew felt nice against her forehead; it seemed to soothe the worldly side of her mind, cooling the spinning mess of emotion and thought, wrapping around the tightness in her chest. It was quiet here this time of morning; and she had to wonder why she hadn’t visited this place much earlier, like Leandra had often insisted. There was peace. There was something different here.

She looked down at her clasped hands in her lap, the stains of beaded water on her knuckles glinting back at her before they sunk into her skin. Her eyes still stung, brimming with the tears that threatened to pour over.

Marian had failed her family; Malcolm, when she hadn’t taken that journey to find a suitable healer, Carver, when she’d let him be the only one to protect their mother against that ogre -- she still remembered the sound his body made when it hit the ground -- or Bethany, when she’d brought her into the deep roads even at their mother’s disrest, handing her off to the Grey Wardens. It’d taken two years to get any letters from her, and Bethany had grown cynical in her time gone. She remembered Leandra weeping in front of the fire when they’d gotten the letter, arms wrapped around Alfus’s neck as the mabari wedged in to comfort.

And now Leandra was gone. Here Marian sat, her hands in her lap, praying until she ran out of words, a faith she’d never held too strongly anyhow. She needed something to hold onto, now that it was gone. Friends were only there so much; and the conflicting opinions had Hawke constantly thinking over her choices time after time, until they’d haunted her sleep and troubled her thoughts.

Faith was the second option that she had. Or mostly, the last option she had. Where was she to turn when her family, the bonds of people she’d held closest, was gone?

“Marian. I hadn’t expected to see you here.” The voice shook her from her thoughts and she turned her head on the pew to look up at him from the corner of her eye. Sebastian was touched by the dawn’s light through the beautiful stained glass windows, causing his appearance to be soft on the edges and his armor to glint slightly, the white nearly blinding. She turned to look back down at her hands, pulling her sleeve over her knuckles to wipe the tear tracks from her face with a loud sniffle. “Though I suppose it does make sense… considering.”

“You don’t have to comfort me, Sebastian.” She grit her jaw, unwinding her fingers from each other to merely rest in her lap. “I’m just stopping by.”

Sebastian took a breath, her senses picked up, before the pew squeaked as he sat down beside her. In her peripheral vision, she could see him from the ribs down, his hands clasping together, archer’s gloves worn at the knuckles. She turned her gaze back down to her lap, head still resting on the back of the bench in front of her. For a moment they sat like that, her thoughts cluttering about in her mind, trying to fit them together like a puzzle, before he cleared his throat beside her.

“You’ve come because of Leandra, haven’t you, Hawke?” He shifted in his seat, and she sat up, back resting against the back of the chair once more as she scrubbed at her freckled cheeks, sleeves soaked once more. “Yet you continue to bury the problem, not asking for any help.”

“If you start preaching, that’ll be it.” She set her jaw, staring at the golden symbol of Andraste hanging from the middle level of the Chantry. “I’ll leave.”

“I won’t preach, Marian. You do not need that now.” He bobbed his head beside her, and she felt a rush of relief that she wasn’t going to hear about her mistakes, her broken confessions she’d cried into her pillows at night. “But you need a friend, and that is entirely normal.”

“Right. So what are your words of wisdom then, Brother Vael?” She huffed out feeling the familiar burn of her eyes and biting her lip sharply to hold it back. She shook her head, rubbing her eyes. “I’m not going to trouble you with this.”

Sebastian sat in silence for a moment, hands clasped in his lap and eyes focused up on the state of Andraste. When he spoke, his voice was gentle, bringing Marian’s attention back to him. “And Eileen spoke unto the masses, ‘My hearth is yours, my bread is yours, my life is yours. For all who walk in the sight of the Maker are one’.”

She didn’t respond, leaving a gap where only the sound of the scattered speakers stood. She played with the bandana around her neck, following the red and gold emblems along the wall with her eyes. Finally, she spoke. “What does that mean?”

“You sit in the home of the faith, though you remain undecided of what you truly believe. So you come to ask yourself, what do you feel when you sit in the oak pews, or look up at the statues and emblems on the wall?” He closed his eyes, and then re-opened them to look over at him. “You’re a daughter of the Maker, Marian. The fact that you think about it after having such far away opinions on the Maker until you need faith shows you are willing to open up to something, to have a solid place to stand.”

When she merely listened, he continued.

“You walk in the eyes of the Maker. And those who walk alongside you will not see your asking for help as a sign of weakness, for you believe.”

She bit down on her bottom lip, looking down to where she clutched her mother’s amulet in one hand. “I’m still undecided.”

“It takes time to truly decide what your heart wishes.” He offered a smile, sitting up and resting a hand on the middle of her back, comforting. “I hope you find the answers that you seek, Hawke.”

“Maker, I hope so, too.” She stood up, holding the locket in her hands, the metal warm by her fingers playing with the emblems. “Thank you, Sebastian.”

“And Marian,” he said, looking up at her, eyes searching her face. “I placed Leandra’s name upon the Chantry’s memorial wall.”

“I…” She paused, feeling the tightness in her throat, the way her breath suddenly wouldn’t come to her. “Thank you.”

“Good day, Hawke.” He gave a fond grin, before watching her as she escaped through the approaching crowd and back into Kirkwall, before he turned around to face the middle level of the Chantry again.

 


End file.
